Sirius Black: Judas, Lover
by BestSkeptic
Summary: Remus deals with the birth of his dear friends' first child, their deaths, Sirius' betrayal, and their reconciliation in the Shrieking Shack. Oneshot. RLSB slash. M for sex.


**Pairing:** Sirius Black/Remus Lupin  
**Rating:** Strong M. This piece is very sexual in nature toward the beginning. And by "very sexual," I mean "pretty explicit." Language can get pretty iffy. If you feel uncomfortable reading this, or are underage, don't. And if you do, please do not leave a review exclaiming, "OMG!1 I am 14 yrs old..." etc. That would make me feel like a... how you say... bad person?  
**Disclaimer:** I own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** Okay, so here's my first attempt at slash. Sort of. I've always been a fan of the Siremus ship, but never took a chance on writing something myself. So here's to taking risks! It basically takes place over the course of Harry's lifetime up to the third Potter installment. Remus deals with the birth of his dear friends' first child, their deaths, Sirius' betrayal, and their reconciliation in the Shrieking Shack. Oneshot. The later dialogue is canon.

**Shameless Advertising:** If you like this, you might want to check out my Draco/Hermione fic, _Hermione Granger is a Whore_. Even if you don't like this, go check it out. Feel free to flame, to desecrate, to do as you wish...

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

James flashed the sort of uncomfortable, "comforting" smile that screamed "I'm scared as hell." He ushered the friends through the door with a silent urgency, hazel eyes glistening. Through the dark, they spotted his tired wife nursing their small child. She flashed a nearly identical smile, only hers was entwined with exhaustion. Her face was flushed, her brow drenched, and cheeks oily. Nevertheless, they could discern an innate calm emanating through the sweaty red wisps of hair plastered to her face–a sort of glow, almost. A rightful glow.

Sirius was the first to kiss her cheek and congratulate her. He stooped to one knee to get a good look at the child. He was mesmerized. He just kneeled in amazement. Didn't even touch the kid he was so afraid. It was like he'd never seen an infant before.

But then again, this was no ordinary infant. It was his godson, his best friend's first son, Harry. He never imagined he'd see the day. Of all of them, he'd expected James to mature last, if he ever did. He was sure James felt the same way for him, with all the pranking and gallivanting they'd done in the past. But here he was, paternal instincts intact, standing over his wife and child protectively. One hand on her shoulder, the other at his side, and his eyes focused sternly on the child. The boy who'd once played practical jokes on unsuspecting victims and played the field with perpetually self-tousled hair was finally a man.

Remus rested his hand on Sirius' shoulder and then gave it a playful tap that said, "Quit hogging the baby, mate, it's my turn." It took Sirius a second, but eventually he rose, and patted the dirt off his robes. He shook his mane and smiled devilishly.

Remus did not kneel by the baby. Instead, he stood towering over mother and child, smiling mildly.

"He has your eyes."

Lily smiled sheepishly.

"C'mon," James prodded, summoning the men to their quarters through the dark. "The rooms are a bit small. If you don't find them to your likings, feel free to sleep out in the hall." James flashed a brilliant smile. There was the Prongs they knew.

He showed them to their rooms and Sirius patted his back, preceding a manly embrace. "You're going to be a great dad, mate."

"Nervous as hell, you know."

"I know. But you'll be fine by the second one."

"How do you know there'll be a second one?"

Sirius winked. "I'm going to go unpack."

"You didn't bring anything, twit! How do you know there'll be a–" a door slammed in his face. Remus shrugged, grinning voraciously. "What?" James demanded.

"Nothing! Nothing at all. If you need me, shout." And with that, he was gone, too.

Remus waited until he heard James' footsteps descending the stairwell before he ventured out into the hall toward Sirius' room. He walked in as Sirius was pulling a shirt over his head, but he'd be damned, the man knew he'd entered anyway, judging by his question: "Cute kid, eh?"

Remus sighed. "The cutest. What did you expect from that beautiful woman and the lucky bastard who managed to snag her?"

"D'you really think there'll be more?"

"Tons. It'll be their new hobby."

"Ha, hobby," Sirius snorted.

Within a second, Remus had pinned him against the wall, teeth and lips clashing, hands everywhere, ripping off robes and shirts and trousers, erections throbbing at each others' thighs.

A minute or so and Sirius had thrown Remus into the bed, crushing his cheek against a pillow. He really didn't like to be dominated that way; Remus should have known better. He spit into his palm and lubricated his cock just before penetrating Remus. A few swift motions and Remus was jerking off, too.

Sirius came first, moaning has he quickened his pace. He would have crashed onto the bed right there, but he had a job to finish. He crawled over to Remus, who was fervently stroking, and steadied his hand. Remus stared at him quizzically.

"Know what's more fun?"

A smile from the werewolf.

Sirius grasped his shaft and pumped once or twice, then led it toward his mouth. He licked the head teasingly, then went or the balls, and the skin connecting the two.

More tongue circles on its underside, from the bottom up, and with a "pleeeaase" from Remus, he sucked the whole thing. He kept up the tongue motions as Remus pumped in and out, and finally came in Sirius' mouth.

He swallowed. They both collapsed on the bed.

Didn't get a wink of sleep, though. Not because they were on watch; they didn't need to be with that damned baby crying every two hours. And now, at 3:45 in the morning, it was crying again.

Sirius rolled over and grasped a pillow over his head. "Bloody hell, doesn't that thing ever shut up?"

Remus laughed sleepily and yawned. "All the better; I should be getting to my room. Wouldn't want James waking up to a pleasant surprise."

"Yeah, like he doesn't know already," Sirius muttered sarcastically.

The warning was in Remus' eyes. He got out of bed to Sirius' tired protests in the form of groans and pulled a pair of trousers over his bare arse.

Sirius spotted it through one half-closed eyelid and mumbled, "Mmm, you have a nice..." before falling asleep with a pillow over his head.

But not for long. The kid was wailing a few minutes later–or at least that's what it seemed like–when Sirius awoke alone in bed. And finally, he whipped out his wand groggily and silenced the door.

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It was over a year later that they took up residence at Godric's Hollow. A few visits were necessary, but things were getting so dangerous that they were afraid to venture there even in muggle disguise–granted, wizards' attempts at muggle disguises were never very convincing. Shacklebolt was raising hell about the prophecy, Dumbledore had hexed the house himself, and even Sirius, the free-spirit of them all, was worried.

But here they were, in the same room, Sirius giving Remus a blow job, and Harry crying in some corner of the house.

Because in the end, Sirius had said, "Fuck the war," and somehow convinced the shrew to let them stay against her better judgement. It really killed him to be that far away from James for so long. They really were as close as brothers, and it was something Remus had always envied. He could never be to Sirius what James was. Lover or not, James was James, and James came first. So it was only logical that they simply _had _to visit James. Even if it meant risking their lives and the life of James' small child.

Once the two had collapsed on the bed again, Sirius prodded conversation. "You know," he said shakily, "it's no coincidence He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has always," pause. "Gotten what he wanted."

Remus looked away.

"And he wants Harry. And he won't spare James."

A long pause. A hard swallow. "Hasn't gotten Dumbledore."

"Wouldn't say a defenceless child has quite the magical calibre Dumbledore's got. Even Lily and James haven't that sort of power."

"Dumbledore will protect them."

"Will he? Don't you think that's a bit naive, Remus?"

The werewolf groaned and rolled over.

"Dumbledore has pawns just as the Dark Lord does. James and Lily are dispensable to him. As is Harry. You know that."

"Yes, I suppose."

"I don't know what I'll do if they..." Sirius' voice trailed off.

Remus sighed. "You'll go on. Just like the rest of us. You'll mourn, but you'll go on."

Sirius gave him a hard stare. "Oh, get off your fucking pedestal. Don't pretend to be so goddamn apathetic about it. They're your friends, too."

"Maybe," Remus began, lip quivering, "some of us have different ways of expressing our..."

"Fear? Anticipation?"

"Something like that."

"I'm scared as hell."

"I know you are."

"And not just because of what could happen to them, or to me, or to us, but because I don't know what I'd do without them. Ten years, ten fucking years, it's all I've known. He can't take that away from me."

"Nobody can take that away from you."

"Auugh!" Sirius punched his fist into the mattress and wept into the comforter. Remus' scarred palm traversed his back.

"We're gonna figure this out. We're going to get through this, I promise," Remus said over and over, but to no avail. Because the truth was that he couldn't even look into his friends eyes, knowing that they were already dead.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**THE BOY WHO LIVED!**_

_**THE WAR IS OVER!**_

_**INFANT SAVES HUMANITY!**_

All were headlines so much cheerier than those whose articles Remus read.

_**SIRIUS BLACK BETRAYS FRIENDS, JAMES AND LILY POTTER DIE TO SAVE SON**_

_**SECRET-KEEPER BLACK BETRAYS FRIENDS AND KILLS HUNDREDS IN ESCAPE**_

_**SERIAL KILLER AND POPULAR JUDAS BLACK KILLS MUGGLES AS WAR ENDS**_

And he wept. He didn't really understand any of it. It just didn't fit.

There was no wizard in all of London–or even the world, for that matter–who loved James and Lily Potter more than Sirius Black. Not even himself. His resolve was far too strong to submit even to the most brutal Cruciatus. He'd sooner kill himself than be subject to an Imperius, if he could help it.

The Sirius Black he knew–the manic-depressive, independent, outspoken, wildly charismatic, dauntingly charming and overall caring friend and lover–was not the one of whom he read from the _Daily Prophet_. The cold-blooded, murderous Judas. The cowardly, impressionable villain who'd sell his soul for five pounds. The wanted man.

How could he have done this? Did he just want everything to be over with? Did he sacrifice his dignity to end his own misery in catalyzing more?

He wouldn't have.

Could he?

It was over, and that was all that mattered. But he'd never felt more alone in his life. Everything Sirius had feared about the loss of friendship had come to be a shocking reality. Now they were Remus' fears. Now they were Remus' burdens, and his regrets.

He missed James and Lily too much to bear. His nostalgia for Sirius was somewhat different.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"WE'RE UP HERE!"

Hermione's voice. The kids were in trouble. He'd heard the willow ranting and raving, which had drawn him to it. He now knew his hunches–probably something of a uniquely werewolf's syndrome–were correct, as was his ever-loved Maurader's Map. Hadn't failed any of them yet.

"WE'RE UP HERE–SIRIUS BLACK–_QUICK_!"

His heart skipped a beat and he paused for a split second. Sirius. Sirius Black. Surely she'd made a mistake. Surely _he'd_ made a mistake. It couldn't be. But the dot on the map... _Sirius_. His face drained of its color immediately; his cloak billowed behind him as he sprinted to the Shrieking Shack. Green pigment flashed by like something of an impressionist painting–he was on a train, eyeing icons of life around him, his mind mostly focused on his destination, but part of him catching every second of his journey. Breathing it in like he would a cup of coffee at dawn. Taking it in like he had everything his entire life–observant, reminiscent, frightened.

Sirius Black. Sirius Black. The criminal. The wanted man. The only wizard to have escaped Azkaban in its history. The man on the loose. His friend-turned-enemy, his lover-turned... well, he wasn't sure of the relation to which Black had turned for him. He'd had hope before, but the evidence was undeniable. New witnesses surfaced every week. Pettigrew was obviously dead. Or was he? He was there, too, on the map. And the map never lied.

Sirius and Peter together? What did Sirius want of Peter? It surely was not a coincidence that he'd somehow lured both Ronald Weasley and Peter Pettigrew into the Shrieking Shack at once. He'd known something. He wanted something. But there was still a chance he'd harm the kids, finish the job–Remus just didn't know anymore. The hope was there at first, but it had faded over the years. Sirius Black was a criminal. He'd betrayed them all.

His footsteps quickened, wand raised, neck hairs stood on end, tickling his skin in paranoia. He hated Sirius Black. And now he'd have the chance to see the man for the first time in twelve years. He most certainly would have changed–if Azkaban could drain a man in one day, what could it do to a broken criminal in twelve years? He counted, multiplied. 4383 days? How many hours? Weeks? How many times had Sirius been subject to the dementor's kiss? Would he be recognizable?

It hit him like a ton of bricks. If he couldn't recognize Sirius, then nothing was left. Everything he'd lost before would be lost again and he would simply cease not to exist, but to feel, to hope, to create magic. And if Sirius were somehow deformed, it would frighten him deeply. And then what if Sirius did not recognize him? What if Sirius did not remember him, did not love him, what if the man were too broken and empty to approach him?

Thoughts racing, he burst into the tattered house, tattered by his own claws, his own deformities, oh-so-many times. And there he was. A filthy mass of hair down to his elbows plastered to the sides of his face and body, covering which was a slab of skin stretched across his skull so tightly he looked like a corpse. Yellow teeth bared, rotting, yet grinning. But in those deep, dark, waxy sockets he could discern shining eyes. Glistening, even. The ones always full of slyness and charisma and hope and a general curiosity and caring. Staring at him. And that's how he knew it was Sirius. And he was so relieved he knew it was Sirius, the same Sirius with whom he'd shared those moments so long ago, of passion, of friendship, of carelessness and amusement. For a moment he forgot everything Sirius had done–all his crime, his inflicted pain, his self destruction.

But not for long. Criminal! Murderer! Judas!

"_Expelliarmus!"_ A wand shot from the grinning man's hand. "Where is he, Sirius?"

His face remained blank, expressionless, unresponsive, as he pointed to the rat in Ron's hands.

The _rat._ How could he have not known? How could he have been so ignorant?

Then he joined the last piece of the jigsaw with the others.

"But then... why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless–unless _he _was the one... unless you switched... without telling me?"

A nod. One of Sirius' nods. Not nearly as full of vive as those of the past, but still a nod. And it comforted him.

And it meant that his hunch was right all along. And that Sirius was–oh, Sirius was...

His own face remained expressionless as well. It was a moment he couldn't project through his visage. Like a chemical reaction so spectacular within himself it could not be released. He wouldn't have even known where to start.

_All these years! _

He lowered his wand and stared at his old friend for the first time in twelve years. Really stared, that is. And he offered his hand to the wretched criminal and pulled him to his feet. Then they embraced.


End file.
